


Control

by toliveathousandlives (Froschkoenig)



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Daemon Angst, Daemon Hurting, Daemon Separation, Eventual Happy Ending, Harm to Daemons, His Dark Materials Spoilers, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kinda, Marisa Coulter Needs a Hug, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Patriarchy, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, golden monkey - Freeform, his dark materials season 2 spoilers, very dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froschkoenig/pseuds/toliveathousandlives
Summary: HIS DARK MATERIALS SEASON 2 SPOILERSWhen Mrs. Coulter left the golden monkey that day at the house of Lord Boreal, he knew that something had changed. This behavior was outright careless. Lord Boreal was so very dangerous to them, how could she leave him with that man? How could she leave the most important and vulnerable thing of her whole being?___This is my take on the leaving-my-daemon-at-an-enemies-house-scene in season 2 of HDM. I wondered if this had happened before and came up with this fic. Also, I was looking for an explanation why the golden monkey doesn't speak.
Kudos: 7





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags carefully!!
> 
> This might trigger some people. Something very bad happens to Mrs. Coulter and she choses to cope with the situation in a very unhealthy, dangerous and horrible way.

She called it control, but he called it pain. 

Mrs. Coulter had always known how to punish herself. How to make it hurt just the right way. To feel pain so very deeply. Because she knew in the core of her bones that she deserved no less.

That she deserved pain and loneliness and that every tiny fraction of happiness would never last, not for her. So she made pain her focus. The very essence of her being. She was proud about how much pain she could endure and even prouder about how much pain she could inflict onto others. 

Nobody could hurt her more than she’d been hurt before. And nobody could do worse to her than what she did to herself.

It was soothing, in a way. Familiar. Comforting.

Whenever she was hurting, she didn’t lose control. She was grounded and focused, not blinded or overwhelmed by emotion.

Keeping the monkey away from her was the easiest way of self-punishment. The one she chose most often. 

This way she hurt them both. The first few times it had been unbearable. It had hurt in a way that physical pain couldn’t be compared to. It hurt like being ripped apart. Like being burned from the inside. Her daemon, her very soul had cried for her desperately.

But as with all things, after a while it became less and less severe. She became numb to the hurting, numb to the cries of her daemon.

*

Mrs. Coulter punished herself like this because she knew she didn’t deserve the golden monkey. She didn’t deserve to have him close, feel his warmth and love and adoration. His naivete and innocence. 

She didn’t deserve to have something so pure and beautiful close to her.

Not after what she’d done to him. What they had done to him, because of her.

So in a way, her separation from him was born out of love. Misguided love, sure, but love nonetheless. 

Hadn’t Lee Scoresby told her that? That loving someone didn’t mean that you wouldn’t hurt them, or that they were safe with you.

The monkey wasn’t safe with her. Had never been. 

She did him a favor by staying as far away as she could. 

*

When Mrs. Coulter had been 16, something had happened to her. Something unspeakable. Something even the Magisterium forbid. Something that had broken all the trust and innocence and hope she had in this world.

Her parents had been awful. She’d always fended for herself, but she had never been alone. They’d always had each other.

When these people caught her unaware walking home one night, they separated her and her daemon immediately. 

When they held her down, the monkey had screamed so loud that the men had reached for their ears to cover them. The golden monkey had settled just months prior and could not change, could not crawl out of the cage they had put him in. He couldn’t do anything but wait and reach out to her and scream and rage against their captivators. After what felt like hours they still didn’t have enough, but they were drunk on spirit and power and didn’t like that young daemon crying for help and mercy. So they did what small minded people did when faced with big obstacles. They used their physical strength, mistaken as true superiority, to overpower the girl and her daemon. And when that wasn’t enough and the daemon kept yelling and begging, they grabbed him, albeit shuddering themselves, and cut out his tongue. Forcing him to be silent. Making him stay silent forever.

After that night, they’d never really recovered. The Magisterium was a patriarchal system. They had condemned what had happened, but they’d also implied that she herself had been at fault. That she had been the one inviting sin and pain and desecration into her life. 

That she must have been impure for something like this to happen to her.

And that’s what stayed with her long after. Not the pain or the rage.

But the shame and guilt and humiliation and the feeling of being broken, being flawed and not good enough.

Those feelings would stay with her up until her last day.

*

When she first left the monkey on his own, it had been a thrill. She’d been in so much emotional pain that some days she couldn’t get out of bed. She’d spent hours cuddled close to the golden monkey, running her hands through his fur. Sobbing one second, apathetic the next. Broken deep inside. So those first few moments of separation had felt like a relief. Because finally, finally she felt on the outside what she had felt on the inside for months. Her agony had a physical form, and she could finally control it. Because no matter how much it hurt, _she_ was the one who could end the pain. She was in control. 

The monkey hadn’t understood. He wasn’t like her. He was still soft inside, still hopeful and innocent. And she wanted him to stay that way. Maybe in a way she wanted him to stay like this because that way she at least could keep a little bit of herself safe. Safe from this horrible, cruel life.

*

After a few times the monkey grew tired of crying and pacing. When she left, he curled up in himself and waited. That was the only thing he had left to do. Waiting on Mrs. Coulter. 

Waiting for her to come back to him, waiting for her to want him again.

*

Mrs. Coulter could still feel the golden monkey, no matter how far or long she stayed away from him. She’d guessed that this would only end if she’d separate them by the blade.

And she thought about that, sometimes. That maybe cutting him away would make her feel at peace. But in the end, she couldn’t do it. Maybe because she was a coward. Maybe because no matter what, the golden monkey was a part of her. And no matter how much she despised him and her life and their past sometimes, she was too selfish to keep him away from her for good. 

She could always feel him. Far away and kind of subdued. 

But she could feel his despair and his anger at her. And the trauma she inflicted upon him time and time again. 

She didn’t like it. It did give her some sort of reassurance though. A proof that she was rotten inside. That she was a bad person, and bad people did bad things. It confirmed her beliefs about herself every time she went away, and her daemon rolled up in a ball as if to keep himself together, keep himself whole.

*

Whenever Mrs. Coulter came back, she’d always touch the monkey afterwards. They didn’t hug or cuddle, but she reassured herself and him that they were still one. Usually, the monkey didn’t react. He could never forgive her for what she did to them, and it usually took a few days till they were back to their routine. A routine of not speaking to each other, barely touching, as far away from each other as possible without hurting.

*

In a way, all of this had been very educational, and Mrs. Coulter would smile about that if she could. In a world devoted to men and catering only to their needs and minds, she – a woman! – had discovered things about dust and souls that no one else ever could. Because they were weak, and she was strong and stubborn and maybe just a little bit more unstable than the next person. It was funny, in a way. That she knew things the Magisterium would never know. 

Because how else would she know how far away someone could go from their daemon without dying or separating? Witches did it all the time, but humans? That had never been heard of before.

And how else would she have known that daemons could in fact hurt their human? Daemons were part of them, they were the physical manifestation of their actual soul. They were to be protected and cherished. Usually, people didn’t hurt their daemons because they would feel the same pain, but it wasn’t unheard of. Because people were human and they did get angry, even at their daemons. And when they were really desperate or furious, they punished them.

Mrs. Coulter had never heard about a daemon hurting a human before. Or, at least, not their own human. There had been instances where a daemon would touch another human voluntarily to protect their own. Life-or-death-situations usually. But there had never ever been a recording of a daemon hurting their own human.

Well, up until Mrs. Coulter and her daemon.

Because however close and almost unbreakable the bond between human and daemon might be, there would always be a moment in time when all trust and love and _being-one_ wasn’t enough to make up for the hurt they caused each other. Normally, daemons would then revolt and scream and hurt themselves to hurt their humans. That was enough to shake some sense into most people. 

That point of no return came pretty early for most humans and in most cases, they’d chose their daemon and their bond over anything else and try to mend whatever had been broken between them.

But in Mrs. Coulters case she didn’t stop. She kept hurting them and ignoring the golden monkey and after a long while there was a moment when the golden monkey could not endure even one more ounce of pain. So he lashed out at her.

Not when she left. Not when the pain and desperation and fear was so blinding that he could barely think. Not then. Not even when she’d been gone for hours and he just wanted to die to make it stop. No.

He attacked her right when she came back. Safe and sound and finally, finally close enough. As the pain abated, he blinked up to her. She seemed relieved to be back as well, content about her control and her ability to withstand so much pain. 

And then she reached out, oblivious to his struggle, to touch him.

And in that moment in time, the golden monkey just couldn’t go on anymore. There was no love for her left, no trust. And now she dared to touch him to make herself feel better? 

After what she’d just done to him?

So he jumped to his feet, reenergized by her closeness, and hit her, hard, in the face. It hurt himself so much more than he’d ever imagined, but it was still no comparison to her leaving him.

Mrs. Coulter looked taken aback. Her cheek burned and she could feel the echo of pain through their connection. Her hand reached up and she touched her reddening face gently, not believing what he’d done. She looked small in that moment, abashed, almost childlike. 

But then she nodded, slowly, as if to thank him for shaking her awake.

The golden monkey regretted hurting her immediately, but it did bring some peace to their life. She never touched him anymore and she didn’t stay away as long as she had before. It was almost as if she’d just realized that he was hurting too.

*

In a different world, tragedy and grief would bring Mrs. Coulter and her daemon closer together. In a different world she’d realize that he was the only thing on earth that she could depend on. 

In a different world they would have given each other strength. And they’d have endured everything life threw at them, because they had each other. They’d never hurt each other because life was painful enough. So they decided to be a safe haven to each other. To keep each other safe and sane.

Maybe they’d have been special in their own way, because no pair of human and daemon could ever be as close, as much _one_ as those two who endured so much.

In a different world maybe there’d have been a very different ending to their story. 

In a different world, maybe they would have been happy even after all that had happened.

*

As it was, they were far from happy. And they hadn’t been happy in a long, long time.

As much as Mrs. Coulter could control the in- and output of pain, she couldn’t control that. She could not make them happy or make them feel loved and wanted and cherished.

And she’d never been able to give that to herself or her daemon. She’d never been able to love herself, accept herself and be content with her life.

And that knowledge, that certainty was what pushed her to leave again and again.

Because if she couldn't control anything else, at least she could control that.

*

When Mrs. Coulter left the golden monkey that day at the house of Lord Boreal, he knew that something had changed. This behavior was outright careless. Lord Boreal was so very dangerous to them, how could she leave him with that man? How could she leave the most important and vulnerable thing of her whole being?

Lord Boreal came into the room after Mrs. Coulter had left and just sat there with him. His daemon, Grizel, slithered onto the bed and looked at the golden monkey with contempt.

They never left his side, watching him, daring him to make just a single wrong move.

The golden monkey turned around, looking out of the window, ignoring their presence at his back.

They couldn’t do anything worse to him that she didn't already.

So he waited.

*

That night, when she returned, the golden monkey sat down next to her. Carefully, as if not to spook her. She was watching the streetlights outside. Sometimes a low rumble would announce the arrival of one of those automobiles that drove around blindingly fast.

The monkey, still recovering from her absence, still half afraid she would leave again, sat so close to her that they were almost touching.

He wanted to touch her so badly. He wanted her, all of her. To keep her and never let go.

But mostly, the golden monkey was exhausted. He had been dizzy and anxious the whole day and he wanted calm and quiet more than anything.

It was then when he made a decision. He was strong and tough, they both were. But in the end this lifestyle was something they couldn’t keep doing. Mrs. Coulter looked even more tired than he felt, and he knew how unhappy and scared she was at all times.

Leaving him with Lord Boreal had been the final straw. It had been almost suicidal.

The golden monkey knew that Mrs. Coulter did not want to die. It was bad, maybe as bad as it had always been. But there was still some tiny spark of hope inside her, hope for a better life. He knew that leaving him here had been born from an almost childish wish to be done. To lose control and let fate take over. Because if someone killed her daemon, she’d gladly go too. It would be out of her control, no longer part of her responsibility. It would take that choice away from her and she would give in willingly.

And sure, one day maybe they’d be lucky. Someone would hurt them badly enough to kill them. Or someone with a bad sense of revenge would kidnap them and torture them to insanity. You couldn’t be sure about that either, because they’d hurt so many people, had so many enemies. It was just as likely that their life wouldn’t end quickly, or painlessly.

So the golden monkey, submissive and silent and utterly defenseless, took matters in his own hands. For the first time in his life.

He couldn’t speak. Hadn’t been able to in a long time. But he could communicate with his human, if he so chose. And if she was willing to listen.

He concentrated on the words and feelings and the sense of his thoughts. And then he took them, bundled them up safely inside all the love and that little bit of trust he still had in her, and sent it her way. Pushed it hard at her, through the link where their minds were connected.

_We can’t go on like this, Marisa. I can’t._

Mrs. Coulter shuddered at the contact but didn’t look away from the window.

“I know, I know. This has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” She exhaled tiredly. “What do you suppose we do now, though? We can’t just… leave.”

The golden monkey relaxed fractionally. This was going better than expected. They hadn’t communicated like this in years, but it felt familiar like an old worn blanket thrown around your shoulders.

_We could, though._

Mrs. Coulter laughed. “You can’t be serious? Everyone knows me, knows us. We’re hated by so many people, T-“ She stopped, her laughter dying inside her throat. She hadn’t even thought his name in decades, she was not ready to speak it out loud. Maybe she’d never be.

_I’m serious. We have nothing to lose. I’d rather die than stay here one more day. Without you._

The golden monkey looked at her hard as he pushed those thoughts through to her. This was maybe the most serious thing he’d ever said. He couldn’t go on like this. He didn’t need explanations or apologies from her. _He knew_. They were one. But now the time had come to change things.

Mrs. Coulter turned to him. “But what if we did it anyway… what if we just… left? We can’t leave Lyra, can we? She doesn’t need us. She doesn’t want us. And Asriel… he doesn’t either…” Her head was spinning and somehow the golden monkey felt pity for her. Because this was the first time she really considered leaving for good. Walking away from this society, from the Magisterium, from the daughter she never knew, and never would. Walking away and never looking back.

The whole world opened up to her in that instant, and for the first time in forever a tiny speck of hope bloomed inside her chest. He could feel it.

Thoughts and plans were forming in her head and she was so close that he could see glimpses of it. They wouldn’t take anything with them. They’d just get up one day and never come back. They didn’t have a home, didn’t have any objects that meant anything to them. 

They had to find a window, because they’d never be safe in this world.

They’d heard a rumor about a window in Windsor years ago. The Gyptians had whispered about it, back when… it didn’t matter now. They could find it, couldn’t they? They’d leave this world behind. They could be safe. Maybe they could really be safe somewhere.

*

In the end, maybe control wasn’t the most important thing. But for them, control would always mean safety.

Mrs. Coulter looked down to her daemon, who hadn’t been further away than a few feet from her in weeks. 

“Let’s go, shall we?”, she said, smiling in a way she hadn’t in years.

The monkey nodded, slowly, still unsure about this.

And then they went through that gap in space, through a window into another world. They didn’t know what would wait for them there, but in a way, it didn’t matter because they were together. And all they left behind was bad memories and pain.

In that moment, they took control of their life. And they chose each other.


End file.
